


Green

by Yuo



Category: Orange is the New Black
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-10-11
Updated: 2018-10-11
Packaged: 2019-07-29 16:47:37
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,254
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16268315
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Yuo/pseuds/Yuo
Summary: A new slow-burn fic about Carol and a new inmate. Not quite sure where it will go.





	Green

It was a somber January day, the air cold and damp, the sky a bleak shade of rabbit grey. Mist sprinkled down from above, glazing the trees with icy moisture. Frigid though it was, the clouds cast a calming, serene presence over everyone. It was the kind of day that made you want to curl up with a fuzzy blanket, a good book, and a cup of hot tea.

I mean, if you had a blanket.

Or a book.

Or tea.

The first third of the equation was solved quickly, as a CO shoved a laundry bag bulging with bedding, towels, and clothing into your arms. You accepted it, expressionless, and continued down the dingy hallway, awkwardly balancing the bulky item as you carried it. “D-Block!” announced the CO. “Ramirez, Perry, Jenkins. This is your stop.”

“Shit, we’re in D-Block,” said one of the girls.

“No, I heard D-Block is the better one,” replied another.

“C-Block is the one with the good jobs,” corrected the first.

“Yeah, but Carol runs it. I heard Barb is way nicer.”

As your name had not yet been read, you waited patiently against the wall as the bars to D-Block were unlocked. The three girls who were ushered inside looked frightened, nervous. You couldn’t blame them; that was the proper reaction to prison, right?

As you waited, you began to question this for one crucial reason: you were not nervous. You had seen your fair share of horrors over the years: murders, beat-downs, exceptionally cruel revenge and punishments engineered by massively successful drug cartels. But prison was an entirely new monstrosity, and yet you entered it with a quiet grace, accepting (or rather resigned) to your new surroundings. Your mind empty and still as the weather outside, you watched the inmates around you with a sort of detached interest.

Detached. That was an unhealthy trait, right? But it was exactly how you were feeling as you followed the group of remaining girls down the hall. Maybe being detached was for the best - everywhere you looked, the new inmates (clad in conspicuous orange) were terrified. “C-Block!” called the guard. “Cooper, Foster, Green.” Green - that was you.

The first thing you noticed was how much brighter and cleaner C-Block was. Everyone appeared happier; more hopeful. You had overheard several conversations amongst the new inmates about the differences between C and D-Block, and they had hinted at some sort of rivalry.

Prison drama didn’t intrigue you. You had five years to get in, do your time, and get out. There was nothing else here for you - no drugs, no gangs, no revenge, and no illicit lesbian relationships. “Foster, you’re in C106. Green, you’re in C205,” read the CO. You picked up your laundry bag and moved towards the staircase, but your path was suddenly blocked.

“Looks like we got some new cookies,” drawled the woman in an unsavory Boston accent. She reached out to tug a loose strand of your messy dark hair. “What’d you do?” You flinched away from her hand.

“Drugs,” you frowned. It was the truth, but not the whole truth. There was a heck of a lot more you had done and gotten away with. But for all intents and purposes, you were in prison for drugs and nothing else, which meant your fellow inmates needed to know that, and nothing else.

“Aww, what happened? Get caught up in your boyfriend’s game?” she pouted. You scoffed internally. Boyfriend? Please.

“What did you do?” you asked, turning the tables. Her teasing grin vanished. She was clearly unused to being challenged.  

“Why do you need to know?” she grumbled, folding her arms.

“See, you don’t want to talk about it either,” you said, shouldering past her and hurrying up the stairs before she could retaliate, refusing to look back and see the ugly expression that must surely be plastered across her face. You sighed as you reached the top. Thirty seconds in your new block, and you had already started the drama.

There was a woman reading peacefully on the lower bunk of your cell. “Hello,” she called, marking her place and setting it aside. “I’m Beth.”

“Beth. Hi,” you said shortly, looking around your new home.

“Have you been in prison before?” asked Beth.

“Been to jail. Lots of times, actually,” you gave a sharp, bitter chuckle. “But not prison.”

“You’ll find it’s not so bad,” she smiled. “Just stay on Carol’s good side. She’s the boss around here.”

“Who’s Carol?” you asked. Then a sinking feeling hit you. The woman you had been rude to must be Carol. Who else would approach the new inmates so boldly? “Uh, I just - like a minute ago, someone came up to me and-” you started.

“I saw you talking to Badison,” said Beth.

“Badison?” you asked incredulously, sounding out the awkward nickname. “The blonde chick. With the bad accent.”

“Yeah, that’s Badison.”

“That’s not Carol?” you confirmed.

Beth gave a sudden, uninhibited laugh, but quickly regained her composure. “I’m sorry. But no, that’s not Carol.”

“Thank god,” you breathed in relief.

“The other girls will test you,” said Beth. “See if you’re a pushover. They’ll keep doing it until you stand up for yourself.”

“Mmm-hmm,” you muttered absentmindedly. “Show me which one is Carol.”

“Relax!” said Beth. “You’ll get to meet everyone eventually.”

“Can you just point her out? I’d hate to accidentally piss anyone else off,” you gave a weak smile.

“Yeah,” nodded Beth, standing from her bunk. You walked to the railing overseeing the common area below. “See the women playing cards?”

“Uh… no. Where?”

“Well, I can’t - I can’t point,” said Beth. “To the left of the stairs. Over there. She’s the one with the glasses, dealing the cards.”

You spotted who she meant. A slender woman, sitting confidently at the head of the table, any discernible features hidden by her huge glasses and wildly teased hair. You knew what a leader looked like. You knew cartel bosses, hardened dealers, and formidable kingpins. She looked like neither. Aside from her relaxed posture (and you knew one had to be pretty secure to adopt a such an easy, lounging posture in prison), there was nothing to suggest she had power of any kind.

One of the inmates at the table glanced up at you, and Beth scurried back into her cell. “So that’s Carol?” you asked, then turned to your left and realized Beth had vanished. The inmate leaned in and whispered something to Carol, and then she was gazing up at you too.

“Hey, cookie!” she shouted, just audible enough for you to hear but not so loud as to draw the guard’s attention. She beckoned you over with a quick motion. You were now grateful for your new sense of emotional detachment, as you knew in any other situation, you would be panicking right now. Shakily, you descended the stairs.

“Why you staring at me, cookie?” glared Carol.

“I - I was just - I mean,” you stammered, garnering chuckles from the others seated nearby. Amusement flickered in her eyes at your flusteredness.

“One of my girls is in the slot,” continued Carol. You were surprised by how casually she spoke. She didn’t sound anything like the passé woman from another era her appearance suggested. “You know how to play bridge?”

You were taken aback, suddenly flooded with memories of your auntie teaching you and your siblings how to play during long summer vacations. “Uh, yeah.”

“Good.” She motioned to the empty seat across from her. “Join us.”


End file.
